Hoxton Breakout - After
by Heather Eyre
Summary: Small stories following the breakout of Hoxton
1. Chapter 1

Hoxton followed Wolf into the safe house, the two men were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Hoxton entered the unfamiliar location and carefully examined his surroundings, a dim light barely illuminated the place. The living space was small, cluttered and dirty. A sheet of dust covered the piles of cardboard boxes, each of them was labelled using a thick black marker.

Wolf turned to face Hoxton, "We got two sleeping bags here, it'll do for tonight" he said.

"Jesus fucking Christ Wolfy, it's rather cramped in here, I take it they don't understand personal space back in Sweden?" said Hoxton as his lips curled into a cheeky grin and he patted Wolf on the back. Hoxton was well aware of how easy it was to irritate Wolf and loved to wind him up, it appeared that hadn't changed whilst he had been away. Each and every time Wolf would fall for it.

Wolf furrowed his brow, "If you have a better suggestion then lets hear it," he growled.

"I'm just kidding around, no need to be a tosser," said Hoxton as he pushed his hair back. "It's a bit of a shit hole, but it'll do for the time being."

Wolf began digging through one of the cardboard boxes and pulled out a bundled up black vest, "Here, you can have this, the sooner you get that prison uniform off the better, we can't have anyone seeing you in that," proclaimed Wolf as he turned away to allow his friend to undress in peace.

"What do you think I'm going to do? Run into the middle of the street in this and do a fucking dance?" laughed Hoxton as he pulled his hair tie out and placed it on the stack of magazines next to the two sleeping bags. He began unbuttoning his jumpsuit._ This had better be the last time I ever have to wear one of these, _he thought to himself. Hoxton stepped out of his old clothing and put on the vest that Wolf had passed him, he quickly realized he didn't have any possessions, no money, no food, not even a pair of trousers. "Hey Wolfy, is this any better to go outside in?" asked Hoxton as he proudly stood in white briefs, white socks and a vest, the only outfit he owned.

Wolf turned around to face his friend, "I think you know the answer to that," he laughed as he gave Hoxton a friendly pat on the back.

"I'm fuckin' shattered," said Hoxton as he climbed into his sleeping bag. "Night Wolfy."


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 2**

The morning sun had risen and Hoxton laid awake, he remained in his sleeping bag as he didn't want to disturb Wolf's slumber. He watched the warm glow of the sun gleam upon the wooden floorboards of the safe house, occasionally birds would swoop past the window as their shadows danced within the glimmer. Hoxton peered towards his sleeping buddy and studied his features, he appeared content and in a deep slumber, his chest gently rising and then falling. Small bubbles of drool hung in Wolf's well kept beard, this reminded him why he had always chosen to keep his facial hair to a minimum. _Cute, I missed you friend_, he thought to himself as he softly laughed.

Hoxton squirmed out of his sleeping bag and began to roll up the vest that Wolf had handed him the previous night, blackened and broken flesh spread across his belly and rib cage. "Fuck me, better do something about that," he groaned as he peeled the clothing back down. He sat up then carefully planted one foot on the smooth wooden floor, his entire body ached as he shuffled towards the kitchen. He gently opened the cupboards and drawers, trying his best to keep noise to a minimum whilst looking for a first aid kit. "Come on, come on," he growled. Upon opening the very last cupboard he found a small container. _Ahh, this must be it,_ he thought to himself.

At the other side of the room Wolf began to rouse, his face was squished into his pillow as he grumbled something incomprehensible in Swedish.

"Du fick bryta några ägg för att göra en omelett.." Wolf groaned lazily.

"Hey Wolf, how 'bout you get up at some point today you lazy git," joked Hoxton.

"I am up," Wolf grumbled into his pillow.

Wolf brought his head out of the pillow and lazily rubbed his eyes. Whilst scratching the back of his neck he watched Hoxton roll up the bottom of the tank top he had given him. "What're you doing? What's up?" enquired Wolf as he raised an eyebrow.

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing?" scoffed Hoxton as he begin cleaning and dressing his wounds. "Oh I almost forgot, all you've fucking got in 'ere is bags of crisps, some ketchup, soy sauce and fucking peanut butter." yelled Hoxton "How are you lot even still alive?" he questioned.

"Yeah yeah, we don't have a lot of food in, I'll sort it out later," replied Wolf as he sat up out of his sleeping bag and stretched his arms.

"I should fucking hope so," chuckled Hoxton. "I didn't come outta prison to starve."


End file.
